When Fears Are Realized
by MyNameisWalter
Summary: Burt's worried about Blaine. Kurt doesn't understand why until Blaine shows up on their doorstep.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

**A/N: This wouldn't leave me alone. It isn't a part of the Nick-verse, as there is absolutely NO NICK in it. At all. Anywhere. :-D This also isn't the storyline that I'm going to use with Blaine in the Nick-verse. Its just a standalone.**

**Enjoy!**

"I'm worried about your friend."

Kurt looks up from his homework to where his dad is standing just inside his doorway. He creases his forehead in confusion, thinking over what's been happening in his friends' lives that would have his dad concerned.

"Which friend?" he asks, setting his books to the side and giving his dad his full attention. His homework could wait. It is the weekend, after all.

"Blaine."

"Blaine?" It isn't the name Kurt is expecting to hear and he wonders just when his dad had time to be concerned about Blaine. "Why are you worried about him?"

Burt crosses the room and sits next to Kurt on his bed. He takes his ever present cap from his head and turns it over in his hands.

"He stopped by the shop a couple days ago, said he was worried about you..."

"Wait. Is that what prompted 'The Talk?'" Kurt interrupts, incredulous. He looks ready to drive to Waynesfield and give the other boy a piece of his mind, so Burt puts a restraining hand on his arm to stop him from moving.

"Yes. He may have helped move it alone, but that talk was going to happen anyways. Blaine just made it happen sooner."

"Oh. So he came to talk to you?"

"Yeah, and that's fine. I'm glad that your friends care so much about you that they can talk to me about their concerns, but son... what do you know about Blaine's family?"

"Not much," says Kurt. "He's got an older sister, she goes to Yale, and his mom is never really around, so a lot of the time its just him and his dad. Dad... why are you so worried about him? What did he say to you?"

Kurt's never had any reason to think that Blaine's home life is a bad one. Sure, he doesn't really talk about it a lot, but now that Kurt thinks about it, not talking about something isn't always good. Blaine does tend to come over to Kurt's house to hang out a lot and they spend most of their weekends together. In fact, the only time they've not seen each other for more than 24 hours was over Christmas break, when Blaine went to Massachusetts to visit his grandparents.

"Oh my God." His voice is soft, almost a whisper, and Burt has to lean towards him to hear, but Kurt doesn't say anything else. Looking at his son, Burt can see that Kurt's come to some shocking realization about his friend.

"What, son?" he asks.

"Dad... I don't know." Kurt turns to look at his dad, eyes intense. "What did he say to you?"

"It really wasn't much, just enough to get me thinking. He mentioned that his relationship with his dad isn't like what we have and that his dad tried to straighten him out. That was the part that got me, you know? I look at you... and, and I can't imagine doing anything to force you to be someone you aren't."

"That's because you're amazing, Dad." Kurt smiles, eyes bright and sad. "But not everyone is as lucky as me. Try not to worry about Blaine too much, okay? I'll talk to him on Monday."

"Yeah? Okay." Burt stands, patting Kurt's knee as he stands and walks to the doorway. He's halfway out when he turns to look back at Kurt, who's gathered his books and is focusing on his notes. "Hey, kid."

"Hmm?" Kurt looks up at him.

"I love you."

Kurt smiles, his whole face lifting from the distressed frown that he'd been wearing.

"Love you too, Dad."

As it turns out, Monday doesn't come fast enough.

The weather on Sunday night is disastrous. It's pouring rain and every time the windows tremble they Kurt braces himself for the loud clap of thunder that's sure to follow. The Hummel-Hudson family is crowded around their dining table, food piled high on their plates when there's a stuttering knock on the front door. Curious as to who is stupid enough to be out in this weather, Burt excuses himself from the table to answer it. Its possible that Kurt has ordered yet more clothes online and its the UPS guy.

He doesn't expect to find a trembling, soaked to the bone, Blaine Anderson on his front porch. His hair is plastered to his forehead, water running down his face in rivulets and he's got his coat wrapped so tightly around him that its a wonder he isn't cutting off circulation. He's staring at his shoes, but the light spilling out from inside the house does nothing to hide the split lip and bruised fingers.

"Blaine?" Burt reaches out a hand to the boy, drawing back when he flinches from him. "Hey, kid. Its okay. You know where you are?"

Blaine gives a shaky nod, head wobbling a little as though he's lost control of his neck. "K-K-Kurt's," he stutters out, teeth chattering.

"Right. You're at Kurt's. You remember who I am?" Blaine gives another shaky nod. "Okay. Then you know I'm not gonna hurt you, right kid?" Burt reaches out again, sighing in obvious relief when Blaine let's him place a hand on his shoulder. The kid's looking up at him now, tears pooling in his eyes and Burt's heart aches.

"Come on," he says. "Let's get you out of this cold and warmed up." He leads Blaine inside and steers him toward the couch, gently pushing on his shoulders to get him to sit. "You just sit here. I'm going to get Kurt and some blankets and I'll be right back, okay?" He starts to remove his hand, but there's suddenly icy fingers wrapped around it and frightened eyes staring up at him.

"N-No! Ple-Please don't... don't l-leave."

"No, hey. Okay," he says, crouching down beside the couch and reaching out a hand to smooth Blaine's hair back from his forehead. "Okay. You're okay, now." A gasp from the doorway jerks Burt's attention from the boy in front of him and causes Blaine to sink in on himself. Carole's standing there, a hand to her mouth and eyes wide as she takes in the sight before turning to the hallway, presumably to get some blankets. Looking back to Blaine, Burt rubs soothing circles on the back of the hand still clutching his.

"Blaine?" He waits for the boy to turn to him, drawing his knees up and laying his head on them. "You want Kurt?" Blaine doesn't say anything, but the pleading in his eyes is all the answer Burt needs.

"Kurt!" he calls out. "Can you come here, please?" He hears the scrape of a chair in the dining room and can feel Blaine tensing as Kurt's footsteps get come towards the living room.

"Blaine?" Kurt's voice is soft, disbelieving, as if he isn't sure the sight in front of him is real. Blaine turns his head to look at him and his face crumbles as the sobs he's been repressing tear themselves free. Kurt's across the room in a second, sitting next to Blaine and pulling his unresisting body to him. He cards a hand through Blaine's curls just as Carole comes back with the blankets and immediately wraps one around the trembling boy on the couch. Blaine's got his face tucked into Kurt's chest, almost heaving with the force of his cries. Kurt grabs one of the blankets and spreads it out across the two of them, using one corner to wipe at Blaine's hair in an attempt to dry it out. He's murmuring nonsense into Blaine's ear, telling him that its okay, that they'll work through this, that he's safe, but Burt isn't sure Blaine's hearing them.

"What's going on?" He doesn't know how long Finn's been standing in the doorway, but judging by the confused look on his face, it isn't long. Carole jumps in before Burt has a chance to, telling Finn to go find something for Blaine to change into, something warm. Finn nods absently, turning to go to his room.

Blaine's stopped sobbing now, instead just hanging on Kurt, body limp and Burt catches Kurt's gaze. His son's eyes have a helpless quality to them at the moment, silently asking his dad what he needs to do. But Burt's clueless, he doesn't know what to do either, but he takes a deep breath and tries.

"Blaine?" he asks, reaching out again to rub soothing circles on the boys back. He gets a shaky intake of breath in return, and flattens his lips together, not sure how this conversation is going to work.

"Blaine. I need you to look at me, okay?" It takes a few minutes, but Blaine does shift so that his cheek is resting against Kurt and he's looking at Burt, fate utterly blank.

"Thank you. How are you feeling?"

Blaine shrugs awkwardly from his position, teeth still chattering. "C-cold."

"Yes, well, being soaked through with freezing rain will do that. Finn's went to get you some dry clothes. He'll be back in a minute and then you can get changed and get warmed up, okay?" Burt takes a breath here, glancing back at Kurt who's looking down at Blaine with a fondness that Burt hasn't seen out of his son in some time. "Can you tell me what happened?" Blaine freezes, eyes darting away from Burt to pick at the blanket covering him. He shakes his head, but Kurt leans down to whisper something in his ear and he sits up, curling into the corner of the couch and letting Kurt grab one of his hands, curling their fingers together. He doesn't say anything for awhile, and Carole reappears from where she disappeared into the kitchen, a tray of steaming mugs in her hands. She places it on the coffee table before wrapping Blaine's other hand around one of them, and he lets out a sigh of relief at the warmth it brings his fingers.

"I got kicked out." Burt knew it was coming, he was just hoping it wasn't true.

"Then you'll stay here," he responds immediately, causing Blaine's head the snap up from where he'd ducked it toward the mug, inhaling the steam rising from it.

"No. I-I couldn't..." Burt holds up a hand to stop him, and Blaine bites his lip to keep from speaking, wincing as his teeth catch on the wound.

"Do you have anywhere else to go." The boy looks pitiful, eyes downcast and brow furrowed. He gives a small shake of his head, and Burt knows that the fight just left him. "Then you will stay here. For as long as you need to, you hear me?" Blaine just looks at him, lips trembling and tears still falling from his eyes.

"Thank you," he whispers, voice thick.

"So what happened? Why?" Kurt asks.

"I-I don't know where to start. I guess... three years ago. That was when I told him I was gay, and he... he didn't talk to me for two weeks." Kurt clings a little tighter to Blaine's hand at that, and Burt tries to imagine not talking to Kurt for two weeks. He can't. "There's always been a plan, in my family, and I was deviating. He doesn't like it when we deviate."

"A plan?" Burt asks. Who plans out their kid's life?

"Yeah. I was to play both soccer and lacrosse. Graduate with honors from Dalton and then I'd go to Princeton and study law. Get a job in the family company and find a trophy wife. He eventually adapted it to my sexuality, I'd still marry a girl, but I could have a boyfriend on the side. "As a treat," he said. As if I'd ever be able to just use someone like that." He's looking down at his mug again, twirling a finger around the rim.

"Today... I told him I didn't want to go to Princeton. Told him that I wanted to go our to L.A. or to New York and go to an art college. He just kind of... snapped, I guess. Started throwing things. He-He said..." Blaine's breath stutters a little and Kurt rubs at his back, encouraging him.

"He said that the Anderson's were a legacy at Princeton, and that there was no way his... his fag son was going to end that." Blaine spits out the last half of his sentence as though it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. "And then he grabbed me, and he threw me out but I didn't have my keys, so I walked." He curls up again, turning his face to press into Kurt's shoulder. Carole's got tears in her eyes, wanting nothing more than to grab the boy and pull him to her, protect him forever, but as she looks at the two of them huddled on the couch she realizes that it isn't her job to protect him. Its Kurt's.

Finn appeared in the doorway sometime during Blaine's explanation and he stares at Blaine, disbelief etched across his features. What kind of person said those things to their son? He wanted to find this guy and punch him, because every time he's met Blaine the boy has been so confident and to see him broken like this changes everything Finn thought he knew about him.

Burt, for his part is ready to drive to Blaine's house and kick the everlasting crap out of his father. It doesn't matter what your viewpoint on his sexuality it, or if you think him going to an art college is the wrong decision. There is absolutely _no_ reason to ever treat your son the way that Mr. Anderson has treated his. It didn't matter now. Blaine was here and he was safe, and by God, Burt was going to make sure it stayed that way.

"Blaine," he said. "I want you to listen to me. You, from what little I've seen, are an amazing person and a fantastic singer. If art college is what you want to do, then by all means, you do it. You get scholarships and you apply for loans and you get as far away from the pain and abuse as you possibly can."

Blaine looks up at the word abuse and opens his mouth to protest, but Burt beats him to it.

"Don't tell me this isn't abuse. Judging from your lip its not only emotional but physical as well." Blaine doesn't contradict him, just nods.

"Finn," he says, addressing his stepson. "Did you get those clothes?"

"Yeah. Right here." Finn hands the clothes to Blaine, who shoots him a small smile in appreciation.

"Okay. You boys head upstairs. Get cleaned up and changed. I'll be up in a few to check on you, okay?" Kurt stands, pulling Blaine up with him before heading for the stairs. Blaine just follows, still looking lost. Burt lets them have a few minutes, spending the time downstairs thinking about tonight's events. He doesn't understand how someone can hurt their own child. He shakes his head and stands, wincing as his legs ache from kneeling on the floor. He goes upstairs slowly, pushing open Kurt's door to see the two boys sitting shoulder to shoulder on Kurt's bed, both dressed in sweatpants. Blaine's got on a McKinley hoodie as well, whereas Kurt's just wearing a simple white t-shirt.

"Hey boys. You feeling warmer, Blaine?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"You're welcome, kid, and you can call me Mr. Hummel. None of that 'sir' stuff in this house."

"Dad," Kurt starts, but Burt holds up a hand to stop him.

"Blaine, you're going to stay with Kurt tonight and we'll get you set up in the guest room tomorrow. I'm going to call the school in the morning and excuse you both from classes. I know you have rehearsal tomorrow afternoon, so you can sleep in and then go to that. We'll also stop by your house and get some of your things for you, okay?" Blaine just nods, but Kurt stands and crosses the room to give Burt a tight hug, murmuring a soft thanks in his ear. Burt can see Blaine's envious look from over his son's shoulder, and pats Kurt on the back to get him to let go. He steps over the bed and pulls Blaine up and into a hug before the boy can say anything.

"Everything's going to be okay," he says into the boy's hair and feels him relax against him. Burt always took care of his boys, and judging from the way Blaine's relationship was going with Kurt, Blaine was going to be one of those boys before long.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Sad day.**

**A/N: So I know I'm supposed to be writing that epic story for the Nick-Verse, but its already over 7,000 words and I'm still writing about Special Education. This could take a bit longer than I promised. So to keep the creative juices flowing, I bring you this. Enjoy!**

**Reviews are like crack to me.**

The next day dawns bright and cheerful. Too bright and cheerful for the two teenagers nestled together in Kurt's bed.

They'd laid in silence for a long while after Kurt's dad had gone, but just as Kurt was drifting into unconsciousness, he'd felt slight tremors coursing through the arm pressed against his and he'd turned, pulling Blaine to him, one hand planted firmly in the middle of his back and the other rubbing soothing circles into the nape of Blaine's neck. They'd stayed like that until the early hours of the morning, Kurt occasionally singing into Blaine's ear in an attempt to quiet the sobs coming from the other boy. Blaine had finally passed out from sheer exhaustion and Kurt had followed soon after.

Both grumble as the sunlight cuts through Kurt's drapes and folds itself over their faces. They burrow into each other for a few moments, Blaine again succumbing to slumber, but Kurt opens his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the sudden brightness drifting through his room. He takes in the tousled hair of his friend before lifting his head from where its resting on Blaine's shoulder. Standing carefully, he makes sure the other boy is still sleeping before running a comb through his hair and leaving his room.

He finds his dad in the kitchen. He's standing in front of the stove alternately frowning at a griddle and sending confused glances at the box of Bisquick he held in his hands.

"Hey, Dad."

Burt turns at his son's voice, surprised to see him leaning against the doorjamb still in his pajamas.

"Hey, Kiddo. I didn't expect you to be up this early."

Kurt shrugs and pushes himself away from the doorway.

"I forgot to close the drapes last night, so the sun woke me up. Do you need any help?" he asked, gesturing the box in his dad's hand.

"That'd be great. You know I stink at this kind of thing. Carole took Finn out for breakfast so we don't have to make too much of that." They busy themselves for awhile. Kurt mixing up the pancake batter and Burt making sure that the griddle is hot enough. Kurt takes some blueberries out of the freezer and then grabs a bag of chocolate chips before turning to face his dad.

"Do you think he'd like chocolate chips or blueberries more?"

"How about you make some of both, so he can choose?" Burt takes the blueberries from Kurt before pouring a bit of the batter onto the griddle and adding a handful of the fruit. "How is he, by the way?"

He hears Kurt sigh, and turns to see him leaning against the fridge rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I don't know. Still asleep right now. We didn't get a lot of it last night, so I wanted to let him sleep in a bit. He was so upset," Kurt says with a sigh. "Dad... I don't know what to do." Burt flips the pancakes, using the time to think about how to answer that before turning to Kurt. He grasps the boy's shoulders, keeping him still and forcing him to listen.

"You just need to keep doing what you're doing. Let him cry when he needs to. Listen when he wants to talk. Be there for him, but don't push him. He needs a friend, someone to care about him..."

"I do," Kurt interrupts, eyes misty but intense.

"Good. I do too, so does Carole, so does Finn. I'm sure he's got more people at Dalton that care as well. He has the support system, its up to him to use it."

"I just want everything to be okay again."

"It will be. But its gonna take time. He's vulnerable right now, and as much as I hate it, its going to get worse before it gets better. We're gonna have to talk to Mr. Anderson. God knows the man doesn't deserve it, but Blaine is his son and he's still a minor, its Mr. Anderson's decision what happens to him. I don't want to send Blaine back into that house, but unless he goes to the police there's little we can do." Its obvious this isn't the answer Kurt wants to hear, because he drops his head and Burt can feel his shoulders shaking a little under his hands.

"He can't go back," Kurt sobs into his chest and Burt pulls him in to rest against his own chest, dropping his cheek to rest against the top of Kurt's head. He murmurs reassurances into his son's hair until they hear timid footsteps overhead and they break apart, hoping to look semi-normal for Blaine's sake. Burt turns back to the pancakes, and if they're slightly darker than normal, that's okay. Kurt, meanwhile, rubs at his swollen eyes ineffectively.

When Blaine finally appears in the doorway, he's still dressed in his sweatpants and hoodie, hair tousled from sleep, and eyes bleary. Kurt's putting plates on the table and he gives the other boy a smile, gesturing for him to sit. He does, immediately folding his arms on the table and dropping his head onto them. Kurt pats his back for a minute, quietly asking him if he'd like some orange juice and receiving a slow nod in reply. He sets the glass down gently in front of Blaine and pats his shoulder one more time before heading back to the kitchen to help Burt.

Blaine doesn't raise his head until he hears the sound of plates laden with food set down on the table top. He takes in the stacks of pancakes, two plates of bacon, and bowl of scrambled eggs and grimaces a little.

"I don't... I don't think I can eat anything," he says, voice soft.

Burt grabs a couple of blueberry pancakes, some eggs and bacon from the plate closest to him, bypassing the salt at Kurt's hard look and eating them plain.

"You don't have to if you can't, but I'd like you to try. You might be surprised at how hungry you are."

Blaine nods, cautiously taking some of the chocolate chip pancakes and adding some syrup to them before slowly cutting into them. He can see Kurt glancing at him from where he's sitting and does his best to ignore the concern and just act normal. He chews slowly and is surprised at the growl his stomach gives. He finishes his pancakes quickly and scoops up some eggs before eyeing the two plates of bacon in confusion. Kurt, seeing his dilemma quickly explains.

"This one," he says, gesturing to the plate closest to the two of them, "is regular bacon, and the one on the other end of the table is turkey bacon." Blaine nods a bit, eyeing the turkey bacon warily before grabbing a few slices from each plate. He tries to turkey bacon first, grimacing a little at the taste and pushing it to the side, drawing a deep chuckle from Burt.

"Tastes a little like cardboard doesn't it?" He doesn't get a response, so he takes a sip of his orange juice and delves into the issues surrounding them. "Blaine." The boy doesn't look at him, instead focusing on the patterns the syrup makes as he drags his fork across his plate.

"Do we have to talk about it?"

"The bruise on your face says we do."

"Dad," Kurt says, a warning in his voice, and Burt can understand that. He had just told his kid not to push. Resigned, he decides to let that go.

"Blaine, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. But there are some things we need to discuss. I called Dalton this morning, and while I was able to excuse Kurt, I'm not on your contact list, so you're going to have to explain to them why you missed today. Also, do you boys want to go to practice today or not?" Kurt looks to Blaine, leaving the decision up to him, he stares back, eyes searching Kurt's for a minute.

"We probably should," he says. "Regionals are coming up, we really can't afford to miss."

"Okay," Kurt says, nodding and standing from the table. "I'll go call Wes and let him know we'll still be there." He walks back up the stairs to retrieve his cell phone and Blaine watches him go, gripping his fork so tightly that Burt's sure it'll break.

"Blaine," he says, ignoring the slight flinch. "I need you to be honest with me, cause if you're not then I won't even give you a choice here. Do you want to stay here, or do you think you're safe at home? Keep in mind that you are more than welcome to stay here, and that I won't necessarily believe you if you say you're good to go home, but you're 17 and you can make your own decisions."

Blaine stares at him for a minute, face blank. He thinks over yesterday. From coming downstairs to dinner to telling his dad he wanted to go somewhere other than Princeton to the shock and pain of his dad's fist against his chin. He thought about being dragged from the dining room to the front door and literally thrown out of his house. Thought about the scrapes on his palms from catching himself on the front walkway. Thought about the rain and the four hour walk to Kurt's house. He looked at Burt and thought about the warmth and kindness and complete acceptance.

"I'm scared," he admits, shakily. "I mean... he's never hit me before. Yelled a lot, sure, but it was never physical and you'd think that it would have scared him, or... or shocked him, right? But he just... kept going. I don't..." he stops, breath stuttering in his chest and Burt rises from his chair and pulls Blaine out of his, engulfing him in a hug and rubbing his back. Blaine sags against him, face buried in Burt's shoulder and body shuddering with repressed sobs.

"I don't know what I did," he chokes out. Burt stiffens before pushing Blaine back a bit and cupping the boy's face, all but forcing him to make eye contact.

"You did _nothing_ wrong. I've said this to Kurt before, and I want you to listen just as much as he did. Your job is to be yourself, and your father's job is to love you _no. matter. what. _He's the one at fault here, Blaine. Not you." Blaine just stares back at him, eyes wide and wet.

"I'll tell you something else, too. As soon as the word 'scared' came out of your mouth there was no way I was going to let you go back there. No one has the right to make you feel scared in your own home. You'll stay here, okay?"

Blaine lunges forward, this time burying his face into Burt's chest as he loses the battle with his emotions. He can't believe that someone like Burt exists. They stand there for what feels like hours, Blaine sobbing into the worn material of Burt's shirt and Burt holding him up, one arm around his shoulders and the other around his neck, fingers stroking the soft curls resting against Blaine's skin. After awhile, Burt clears his throat and Blaine pulls back enough to wipe at his eyes.

"Why don't you go back upstairs and get cleaned up, take a shower and get dressed, I had Finn leave out some clothes for you on his bed, and then we'll run by your house and grab some of your things, okay? Your dad should be at work by now, right?"

"Yeah," Blaine says, voice rough and scratchy. "He usually goes in at 6, and he never gets home until after 9."

"Alright, so we'll grab your things and then I'll drive you boys to Dalton and hang out until practice is over. After that we can grab some dinner. Sound good?"

Blaine nods, shooting Burt a grateful glance before disentangling himself and heading toward the stairs. He's about to step up onto the bottom step when he hears Burt say his name.

"I meant it, Blaine," Burt says when the boy turns around. "None of this is your fault." Blaine frowns a little, but nods nonetheless and he knows that Burt knows he doesn't believe that.

"Thank you," he whispers before darting up the stairs.

An hour later, the three of them are in Kurt's Navigator, heading toward Waynesfield. Burt's driving, wearing his usual plain shirt and baseball cap. Kurt managed to keep his outfit simple, wearing a form fitting black sweater over a white t-shirt and some grey skinny jeans. He's sitting next to his dad in the front, leaving Blaine to stretch out in the back, away from the concerned glances. He looks down at his own outfit and has to chuckle at the way the legs of his jeans pool around his feet. Finn was insanely tall, and made Blaine's 5'8" stature seem even shorter than normal. Finn had managed to find an old t-shirt from his Freshman year that fit Blaine better than any of his newer clothes would have. It didn't matter much anyways, Blaine would just change once he was in his room. He's interrupted from his musings by Burt's voice.

"Waynesfield's about a half hour drive, right?"

"Yeah. Usually. Depends on traffic sometimes."

"So how long did it take you to walk it?"

"Umm," Blaine says, looking down at his lap. "About... about four hours."

He misses Kurt's shocked glance and the tightening of Burt's fingers around the steering wheel, but he doesn't miss the harsh tone of Burt's voice when he speaks again.

"You walked, four hours, _in the rain_, last night?" Blaine ducks down a little, hoping that if he makes himself smaller he can just slide down in between the seats and ignore this conversation.

"Ye.. Yes, sir," he says, hesitant. "But it wasn't that bad..." Burt either hears the timidness or notices Blaine's attempt at disappearing because he's quick to change the subject. In what feels like no time at all, they're pulling up in front of Blaine's modest two-story home, and as Blaine climbs from the car he can't help but wonder if this would be the last time he'd ever come here. He makes his way to the front door, unsurprised to find it locked, but reaches under the porch swing to extract a key that had been taped to the underside of it. He opens the door and gestures for Kurt and his dad to enter before following them in and locking the door behind him. He sets the key on the small table to the right of the door and starts to lead the other two up the stairs when he's stopped by Burt's hand on his arm.

"Blaine," he says, questioning. "Where are the pictures?" Blaine looks around, just now noticing the bare walls, outlines of picture frames clearly visible from where they'd been hanging the day before. He reaches out to touch one of the brightly colored squares, as if touching it will bring the photo back.

"I don't know," he says. "He must have taken them down." He takes a moment to survey the room, noticing that not all of the pictures have been taken down. His parent's wedding portrait still hangs above the fireplace and the picture of the two of them celebrating their fifth anniversary in Hawaii still adorns the wall leading into the kitchen. No, there were plenty of pictures of his parents still hanging in the living room. It was just... the pictures of him that were gone. It was strange, seeing your life disappear like his had seemed to, but he shakes his head and makes his way up the stairs anyways. It doesn't matter, he doesn't live there anymore anyways.

He leads the way down the hallway and opens the last door on the left to what can only be described as total destruction.

The bedclothes had been ripped from the mattress and were scattered throughout the room. Broken CD's and DVD's littered the floor and his clothes had been torn from his closet. His desk had been overturned and he could see his laptop laying underneath one of the corners. Upon closer inspection of that he'd discover that the screen was cracked, but that the computer was still in working order. Posters had been ripped from the walls and ripped into such tiny pieces that it would be impossible to distinguish which piece came from which poster. His guitar lay in pieces, the neck snapped clean from the body and only held together by the strings.

And in the middle of it all sits a large pile of broken pictures frames, the pictures in them ripped and crumpled and each depicting the smiling face of Blaine Anderson.

Blaine chokes, bringing his hands up to cover his mouth and turning to run to the bathroom across the hall, only just managing to reach the toilet before his stomach rebells and he is forced to expel the little food he's eaten. He feels a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles into his heated skin and he sinks back into the touch gratefully, turning to see Kurt sitting beside him. He reaches up to flush the toilet before grabbing a washcloth and wiping his face and collapsing on the other boy.

Kurt just strokes his forehead, pushing his curls away from his face and letting him lean against his chest.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"For what?"

"That you have to deal with this. With me."

"Shush, Blaine. You're my closest friend, of course I'm going to be here for you. So apology not accepted. You don't ever have to apologize for this."

Burt chose this moment to appear in the doorway, a duffel bag in his hands. He takes in the scene and crouches next to the boys, concerned.

"I found some clothes that seemed to be alright," he said, frowning at the flushed look on Blaine's face. "Your laptop seems to be okay, but I couldn't find a power cord for it. Is there anything else you want to grab?"

Blaine nods and stands to go back to his room. He finds his cell phone and keys in his bedside table, which had someone managed to escape the destruction and turns to rifle through the drawers of his desk, pulling out some pictures and a notebook before walking back over to Kurt and his dad, who'd come to stand in the doorway.

"Can we leave?" he asks, staring at his shoes.

"Of course we can," Burt says, clapping Blaine on the shoulder and grabbing the duffel bag before turning to head back down the stairs. Kurt turns to follow, but stops when Blaine stays in the room. He looks back to see the other boy taking one more look around the space that he'd been able to call his own for so long before letting his shoulders drop and turning to go out the door. He closes the door behind him and catches up to Kurt quickly, who reaches out a hand for him to grasp. He does and Kurt squeezes gently, reassuringly, and smiles when Blaine squeezes back in silent thanks.

The ride to Dalton is silent, no one wanting to address the tense set of Blaine's shoulders or the way Kurt keeps ahold of the other boy's hand the entire trip. Upon reaching campus, Kurt checks his dad in with security and leads him to the parent lounge, where he settles in to watch some television while the boys are at practice.

They walk toward the senior commons slowly, both apprehensive about how they'll explain the situation to the Warblers. They enter the ornately decorated room to find the council already there. A few of the other boys were seated around the room, most keeping to themselves, but Jeff calls out a greeting to the two, causing everyone else to look over at them. Kurt feels Blaine shrink into him a little, turning his face to hide the bruise on his cheek. Kurt steers him to an empty couch and catches Wes' gaze as they pass the council members. He gestures with his head to a secluded corner in the room and once he gets Blaine settled, makes his way across the room to meet him.

Kurt leans against the wall, making sure to keep Blaine in sight, and glances at Wes. The older boy is frowning at him, and Kurt knows he needs to start explaining.

"You may have noticed that Blaine isn't exactly acting like himself," he says.

"I have. He acted that way when he first transferred, but I thought we'd gotten him past that."

"Past that?"

"He likes to hide inside himself when he's hurting. Doesn't talk to anyone, pushes people away."

Kurt nods, it wasn't exactly what Blaine was doing now, but it was close.

"He showed up at my house last night."

Wes shoots him a look. "That's nothing new, Kurt."

"Yeah, well, the bruise and split lip were."

"What?" Wes asks sharply.

"I probably shouldn't have said that first," Kurt sighs, smoothing a hand over his hair and watching Blaine look around him warily. "His dad kicked him out."

Wes grabs for the wall to steady himself. "I... what? I knew his home life wasn't amazing, but I didn't think it was that bad."

"I don't think it was, but his dad always wanted Blaine to go to Princeton, to lie about who he was, and when Blaine said he didn't want to do that his dad kind of... freaked out."

"Freaked out and hit him?"

"Apparently. Anyways, he walked to my house last night..."

"Yeah," Wes interrupts. "He mentioned that his car was having problems."

"I think it was more the fact that he didn't have his keys than that. I mean, from his house to mine is only a half hour drive. But he walked it. Four hours, Wes. In the rain. And," he laughs, "that's not even the worst of it."

Wes gestures for him to continue, making eye contact with David and gesturing to Blaine with his head, silently asking his friend to check on the other Warbler.

"We went to his house today, to get some things for him. He's staying with me, by the way. But we get there and..."

Kurt doesn't get to finish, as the doors to the senior commons have just been thrown open with such force that they bounce off the walls and almost hit the person standing in the doorway. All eyes focus on the unknown figure and Kurt sees Blaine flinch back into David, who grabs his shoulders to steady him. It hits Kurt then, just who this man is.

He turns his head back to the open doorway and locks eyes with a very angry Mr. Anderson.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. If I did, this is not the story I would be telling. **

**A/N: I'd like to thank everyone so much for all the positive feedback this, as well as all of my stories, has received. You guys are all amazing, and you make writing this so much easier. 3**

Mr. Anderson breaks his gaze first, sweeping his eyes around the room before spotting his son. His gaze narrows and his lips tighten, as if the very sight of Blaine angers him.

Kurt pushes himself away from the wall at the same time Mr. Anderson starts forward. David has moved to stand in front of Blaine and Kurt silently thanks him for providing some semblance of safety.

"Wes," Kurt says over his shoulder. "My dad's in the parent lounge." Wes is out the door before Kurt even finishes his sentence, giving Kurt one less thing to worry about right now. He focuses on beating Mr. Anderson to Blaine, determined to protect his friend.

"You son of a bitch." Blaine flinches at the harshness in his father's voice and Kurt redoubles his efforts, all but running across the room. He skirts around Jeff, who's standing in shock in front of the fireplace, putting a hand on his shoulder and whispering for him to find an administrator, quickly. He doesn't look to see if Jeff's following his orders because Mr. Anderson has reached the couch and is lunging around David and Kurt's stomach plummets, because he's too late.

"How dare you!"

"Mr. Anderson!" David's pushing at the man's shoulders, determined to get him back and away from both himself and Blaine and finally Kurt's there, rushing around David to grab Blaine and pull him back, out of reach from the anger radiating from his father.

"Blaine?" Kurt asks, trying and failing to get Blaine to look at him. He places a hand on Blaine's cheek, intending to turn the other boy's gaze away from his father and into his own, but a loud yell stops him.

"Get your hands off my son, you fucking fag! You did this. He was fine and then you came here and now he's talking crazy and stealing from me!"

"I didn't steal from you." It's whispered, so low that Mr. Anderson almost misses it, but it's clear he doesn't when he focuses back on Blaine. Kurt keeps a hand on Blaine's shoulder but flinches back at the anger being tossed at him.

"Keep your mouth shut, Blaine. And yes, you did steal from me. Anything you took from _my_ house this morning is stealing," Mr. Anderson has stopped reaching for Blaine, but paces in front of David like a caged lion, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

"I don't... What? This is about clothes?"

"I couldn't care less about your clothes, Blaine."

Mr. Anderson stops pacing, turning to point an accusing finger at his son. David makes sure to step in front of him, keeping him from actually touching Blaine.

"What I care about," he says, "is that you came into _my_ home without _my_ permission."

"Your home?" Blaine asks, arms folded across his chest protectively. He takes a small step forward, and David shoots him a look over his shoulder. "It's my home too."

"No, Blaine, it isn't. The minute you walked out last night it was no longer your home."

"Walked?" Blaine asks. He's dropped his hands down to rest at his side and is gaping at his father in shock. "I didn't walk out of anything. You threw me out." He gestures at his father to exaggerate his point, and Mr. Anderson looks back at him, eyes narrowed.

"You keep it up and I'll throw you some more." David takes the threat seriously, as he should, and puts out a hand to stop Mr. Anderson from moving. It doesn't work, and instead Mr. Anderson knocks the hand away and throws out both arms, physically pushing David out of his way. The Warbler stumbles with the force of the push, turning his body to avoid the couch and instead crashing sideways into a table, sending a vase tumbling to the ground, where it shatters on impact. He winces, holding his side as he steadies himself.

Kurt, meanwhile, tries to use the hand on Blaine's shoulder to pull him back a bit, but Blaine shrugs him off and steps forward. Kurt lunges after him, only managing to graze the back of his shirt before Mr. Anderson is there and grabbing Blaine by the upper arms, turning him and slamming him into the back of the couch.

"What is wrong with you? What did I do that was so wrong?" Blaine struggles against his father's hold, groaning slightly at the sudden pain in his back, but the man just shifts his grip so his hands are pushing down on his chest, dangerously close to the junior's throat.

"You know what you did! You know what you are and it's disgusting. I could pretend... pretend that you weren't utter filth as long as you never talked about it. But no, you just couldn't go along with it." His grip shifts again, and suddenly Blaine's gasping for air that isn't there and grasping at the fingers that have wound themselves around his neck.

"It was just a part, Blaine! Why couldn't you just play your part?" Blaine wheezes slightly, trying desperately to force air into his lungs. He's stopped pulling at his father's fingers, realizing that it won't help. Kurt's there, trying in vain to pull the man away from Blaine, but nothing he's doing is working.

He looks around wildly, wondering what he could do to help and sees the other few Warblers watching the scene in shock. Nick's got his cell phone out and is rattling information away to who he assumes is the police. He jerks his gaze away from him when the doors slam open again and he wonders when they got shut.

It doesn't matter though, because Burt is there, staring in horror at what's taking place in front of him.

"Hey! Get your hands off him!" Burt strides across the room, gently shoving Kurt out of the way and grabbing Mr. Anderson's shoulder to pry him away from Blaine. It takes him a moment, and Kurt has to step in and literally pry Mr. Anderson's fingers away, but they finally do it and Burt drags the man away from the couch while Blaine collapses against it, sliding down to sit on the floor and pulling Kurt with him. Wes is kneeling beside them as well, and reaches out a tentative hand to place on Blaine's shoulder.

Kurt moves to sit in front of Blaine, pulling his head up from where he's buried it in his knees and cupping Blaine's face in his hands. He rubs his thumbs soothingly over Blaine's cheekbones and breathes a little easier when Blaine's eyes meet his. Blaine's gulping in lungfuls of air and Kurt worries for a moment that he's going to hyperventilate.

"Blaine," he says, voice soft. "Slow down. You're okay. Just breathe, okay?"

Blaine brings his hands up to rest on Kurt's, needing to hold onto him.

"K-Kurt?" His voice is ragged and that one word sends him into a violent coughing fit. He rides it out and ends up slumping even further to rest his forehead against Kurt's chest, winding his arms around the other boy's waist and just holding on. Wes looks at Kurt unsure of what to do and Kurt looks silently back at him, because he isn't so sure either.

"Blaine," Wes whispers to the huddled figure in Kurt's lap. "Nick called the police, but we need to know if you need a hospital."

Kurt has to tighten his hold as Blaine immediately shakes his head so violently that Kurt's sure he's given himself whiplash. He shushes him, running a hand through Blaine's curls in an effort to soothe his friend.

"Okay," he says. "No hospital. That's fine. Do you want to get out of here?" Up 'til now Kurt's been able to ignore the raised voices from across the room, but he can't ignore the sudden shout and thud of a body hitting the floor. He cranes his neck to peek over the back of the couch and sees his dad standing over Blaine's, who has suddenly found himself intimately acquainted with the floor. Burt's fists are clenched and he's visibly holding himself back from inflicting anymore harm onto Mr. Anderson. The other man has a hand pressed to his face, blood trickling through the cracks in his fingers and down onto his oxford. He's glaring up at Burt, disgust evident on his face, as if he can't believe that Burt had the gall to punch him.

"Now you listen to me. I don't care who the hell you are or how connected you may be. You will _never_ talk about _my_ son that way again. Actually, you know what? You'll never talk about Blaine that way again." Burt pauses here, running a hand over his head and glancing back at the boys, as if he's reassuring himself that they're still there.

"He is your son. It doesn't matter who he loves or how he lives his life, he will always be your son and you are supposed to accept him for who he is."

Mr. Anderson pulls his hand away from his nose, still glaring up at Burt.

"Not when who he is, is a dirty little fa-" He's cut off as Burt takes a menacing step closer to him, fist raised in anger.

"Use that word again and they'll be taking you out of here on a stretcher."

Blaine slowly lifts his head from Kurt's chest, blinking up at the other boy through wet lashes. He turns his head slightly to face the commotion, straightening a little to see over the couch, but doesn't say anything.

"Blaine is an amazing boy. You should be proud of him, not trying to kill him."

"Right." Mr. Anderson slowly gets to his feet, rubbing his backside a bit where it had hit the floor. "Because you would be so keen to call him your son." Blaine flinches at this, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to escape from the situation. Burt just stands there, staring at Mr. Anderson, eyes boring into the other man.

"I..." he stops again, looking back over his shoulder at Blaine, gaze immediately softening when he catches site of closed eyes and slumped shoulders.

"I would have been honored," he says softly, "to call him my son."

Kurt can feel Blaine losing control, his shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping his emotions in check and Kurt quickly stands, pulling the other boy with him and dragging him toward the door and out into the hallway. As the door closes behind them, they can hear Mr. Anderson's retort.

"Well then you can have him. I certainly don't want him back." It's the catalyst to Blaine's strength and he breaks, slumping in Kurt's arms until they're almost lying on the bench outside the commons. Kurt mumbles nonsense into Blaine's hair, rubbing his back as he finally lets go of the sobs that have been threatening since Mr. Anderson first appeared.

Time passes in a blur after that. There are sirens and flashing lights, yells and accusations, steadying hands and whispered comfort. Through it all Kurt held onto Blaine, keeping him together just enough to get by. He stumbles through a statement to a curly-haired female officer, trembling as he does so, and immediately tucks his face back into Kurt as soon as he's able.

It isn't until they're back at the Hummel-Hudson house and Blaine's tucked safely away in the guest room that Kurt allows himself to break a bit. He's curled up next to Burt on their sofa, head resting on his dad's shoulder as he wipes ineffectively at the tears leaking from his eyes.

"I don't understand," he whispers into the warmth of the shoulder underneath his cheek.

"I don't understand either, Kurt. I don't think I ever will." Burt reaches up a hand to brush lightly at Kurt's hair. "I look at you, and I can't ever imagine doing that. I may have struggled a bit in the beginning, but throwing you out? Forcing you from my life? It never even crossed my mind. It was never, _ever_ an option."

They sit in silence for a bit, both thankful for the other and reveling in the closeness they share. Kurt's head lolls where it rests and he jolts back into awareness from the movement. Burt looks down at him, chuckling slightly.

"Thought I'd lost you there, Kiddo. You go on up to bed. I'll check in on Blaine."

Kurt nods, standing with his father and leaning in to hug him. He holds on tightly, needing the comfort.

"Dad?" he asks. "What happens now?"

Burt doesn't say anything, just presses his face into Kurt's hair, breathing in the distinct smell of home and safety and Kurt.

"I don't know," he whispers. "But whatever does happen, we'll get through it together." He pulls away, looking down at his son. "All of us."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

**A/N: I feel as though I say this about all of my chapters, but I really don't like how this one turned out. I'm hoping to have the next chapter of **_**Taking the Time **_**up by the end of the week. **

**Also, I'd really like to give a special shout out to Olivia Sherman. You single handedly helped me continue writing this. I'd gotten really discouraged with a couple of things and then I got your review and it made me stop questioning myself so much. Thank you!**

True to his word, Burt sends Kurt off to bed and then makes sure the doors and windows are locked before flicking the lights off downstairs and heading for the guest room. He cracks open the door a bit, wincing when it creaks and making a mental note to oil the hinges in the morning. Tiptoeing into the room, he makes his way to Blaine's beside, frowning down at the flushed face and harsh breaths.

Blaine was in the throes of an obviously fitful sleep. He'd kicked the covers down to tangle around his ankles and the thin t-shirt he wore was soaked through with sweat. Burt reaches out a hand, running his work-roughened fingers through the curls plastered to Blaine's forehead and frowning at the heat rolling from the boy's skin. Stepping back a bit, he takes another lingering look at the distressed face before leaving the room.

It takes him a few minutes to find a clean washrag but he quickly douses it in water and grabs a bowl and some ice before heading back to the guest room. In the time he's been gone Blaine's managed to flip himself onto his stomach, causing the sheets to tangle even further around his legs. Burt gently places the bowl and washrag onto the bedside table and sets about unraveling the cloth from Blaine's legs. Wincing as a particularly vicious knot snags around Blaine's ankle, he waits for the boy to wake but is relieved when he does nothing more than snuffle into the pillow beneath him.

Finally untangling the boy from the sheets, he shakes them out before draping them over the body on the bed and grabbing the washrag. Studying Blaine for a moment, he wonders if he should risk rolling the boy onto his back so that he can lay the cloth along his forehead and then decides that it's probably the best thing to do. Blaine stirs a little as he's jostled into position and his eyes open briefly before slowly falling shut. Burt sighs and dips the rag into the now slightly melted ice before ringing it out. He places the wet cloth across Blaine's forehead, letting it cool the fevered skin and settles himself into an armchair for what's going to turn out to be a long night.

Burt manages to drift off sometime in the early hours of the morning and is roused a few hours later by Carole's incessant prodding at his shoulder. He blinks up at her, eyes bleary and neck stiff before remembering where he is and just why he's sleeping in a chair. Casting his gaze to the bed he slowly extracts himself from his curled position and sets about drenching the now dried washrag and replacing it. Carole walks up behind him, placing a hand on one of Blaine's flushed cheeks and furrowing her brow at the warmth radiating from him.

"When did this start?" she asks softly.

"Late last night," he answers. "I came in to check on him before bed and found him like this."

She tuts softly, pulling the sheets away slightly and gasping at the vivid bruises surrounding the boy's neck.

In the light of the morning Burt can see what the shadows of the night covered up. Rings of blue and purple stand out where flawless skin should be. Bending down to get a closer look, Burt clenches his fists as he makes out two deep purple, almost black in color, bruises at the base of Blaine's throat, just where Mr. Anderson's thumbs would have settled during the attack.

"I'll go get some more ice," Carole says, leaving the room. She returns a few minutes later with an ice pack in one hand and a thermometer in the other. She sets the ice next to Blaine on the bed and slips the thermometer into his mouth. Blaine rouses at the intrusion, eyes fluttering open to stare blankly at the ceiling. He twists his mouth around the plastic between his lips and reaches a hand up to remove it. Carole intercepts him and he shifts his gaze to her, confused.

"Wuh," he mumbles.

Carole shushes him and runs a hand over his forehead and up into his hair. His eyes close at the gesture and he relaxes back into the pillows. He takes a deep breath through his nose and surges forward as his body is wracked by a coughing fit. Carole grabs the thermometer from him, glancing down at it as she rubs soothingly at his back.

Burt stands in the corner, feeling utterly useless as he watches Blaine's chest heave with deep, hacking coughs.

"Burt," Carole calls to him. She's holding out the thermometer, eyes worried. Burt takes the device from her looking down at the number displayed on the small screen. 102.8. His eyebrows raise as he takes in the digits and he looks back at Carole, silently asking her what to do.

"That's uh... That's really high," he says.

"It is." Carole sighs, still rubbing Blaine's back. The coughs have ceased for the moment, but he's still heaving, trying to catch back the breath he lost.

"What do we do?" Burt asks, coming to stand behind her.

"We need to bring it down. Can you grab the tylenol from the bathroom and a glass of water? That'll help." Burt does as he's asked and is back in just a few moments. Carole's managed to arrange Blaine into a semi-sitting position and he's got the covers pulled back up over his chest. Burt has the sudden thought that he looks small, smaller than he's ever looked, holed up in that bed with pillows scattered around him.

He hands Carole the pills and the glass and watches as Blaine's able to down them with just a few sips of water.

"Thanks," he says as he hands the glass back to Carole. It comes out scratchy and breaks halfway through the word and he reaches up a hand to rub at his throat, wincing when he comes into contact with the bruises.

Carole bats his hand away from his neck and wraps the ice pack she brought with her in the now discarded washrag and paces it gently on the bruised skin. Blaine flinches a little when the cold seeps into his skin but doesn't try to remove it. He watches Carole blearily as she smoothes out the wrinkles in the comforter and fusses over him.

"Why don't you try to get some more sleep, okay? It might make you feel better," she runs her fingers through his curls a couple more times, pushing the hair back and away from his forehead as his eyes drift shut and his breathing evens out.

Burt walks up behind her, placing a gentle hand on one of her shoulders and guiding her away from the sleeping boy and out the door. He leaves the door cracked open, hoping that they'll be able to hear if Blaine calls out for anything. They walk downstairs, surprised to find Finn slouched over at the table and Kurt in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Both boys are still in their pajamas though, so Carole quickly takes over for Kurt and pushes him out of the kitchen, telling him to go take a shower and get ready for school.

"School? I..." His protest dies when his dad gives him a pointed look and waves him in the direction of the stairs. Kurt goes grudgingly, and is back in record time.

"Dad," he says, entering the kitchen. His hair is still wet and plastered to his forehead, but he is wearing his uniform.

"Don't bother, Kurt," Burt says. "You missed school yesterday. Blaine will be fine without for the day. You're going."

"Where is Blaine?" Finn asks around a mouthful of toast. Carole gives him a pointed look and he swallows before grinning at her sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Blaine is still asleep. We didn't see any need in waking him up early if he wasn't going to school." By mutual agreement they'd decided not to tell the boys about Blaine's illness. Both knew that there was no way they'd be able to get Kurt to leave his bedside if he knew the other boy was sick.

Breakfast passed quickly and soon the two boys were headed to their respective schools. Burt and Carole shared a sigh of relief as silence settled throughout the house.

If only they knew how quickly silence could be shattered.

Kurt all but fell out of the Navigator in his haste to get inside. The day had dragged on and he'd done nothing but stare at his phone and think about how Blaine wasn't there. He grabbed his bag from the passenger seat and strode up the walkway to his front door. He stepped through the threshold and into the living room, pausing when he caught sight of his parents and Blaine. Closing the door softly behind him, he drops his bag next to it and toes off his shoes before going to sit beside Blaine on their couch.

The older boy was wrapped in the comforter from the bed in the guest room. Tissues littered the space around him and box rested close to his hip. Kurt took in the blank eyes and emotionless face before turning to look at his parents. Burt sat in an armchair at the opposite end of the couch from where Blaine sat, Carole resting lightly on the arm. He had a folder clutched in his hands and was staring at Blaine, concern etched onto his features.

"What's going on?" asks Kurt, settling into the cushions. "What's that?"

His parents look at each other but neither say anything.

"Dad?"

"They're adoption papers. My parents disowned me." The voice comes from his left, and Kurt turns his head to stare at Blaine.

"Well," he says, grimacing. "Not really. A minor can't legally be disowned in the United States."

"What?" Kurt asks, shocked. He turns back to his dad, but Burt's looking down at the folder and won't meet Kurt's eyes. He turns back to Blaine. "What does that mean?"

Blaine finally turns his head, looking at Kurt with such detachment that Kurt wants to wave a hand in front of his friend's face just to make sure that Blaine can actually still see him.

"It means my parents signed away their parental rights. I'm officially a ward of the state."

"No," Kurt breathes.

"I have until the end of the week to find someone who's willing to take over parental rights. If I can't then I'll end up in the foster system."

"No!" This time Kurt yells it and whips around to face his dad who's still staring at the folder in his hands. "Dad!"

"Kurt," Burt says, lifting a hand to rub at his eyes. He's interrupted by Blaine standing, comforter falling around him in waves.

"I'm not feeling very well. Can I go lie down?" He asks quietly, staring down at his feet. Carole stands from her perch and wraps an arm around his shoulders, gently leading him up the stairs.

Kurt watches him go, gut twisting at the utter horror that has become his friend's life. He stares until he can no longer see Blaine and Carole and then turns back around to find his dad watching him.

"Dad." Kurt says, a plea in his voice and eyes.

"Kurt," Burt sighs. He looks at his son for a long moment before dropping the folder and crossing to the couch and gathering Kurt in his arms. He can feel the tremors coursing throughout his son's body and the wetness of his tears soaking into his shirt. He closes his eyes, hugging Kurt closer and whispering into his hair.

"I don't know what to do."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Still don't own it. Shoot. **

**A/N: I'd like to thank you all for the lovely reviews. They make writing this so much easier. **

Carson Anderson didn't hate Yale. That didn't mean that she liked it either. She honestly didn't care where she'd ended up at, she just knew that she wanted to get out of Ohio and away from the crap that was her home life.

'_And with good reason,'_ she thinks. _'If this is the way they're going to treat us.'_

Haphazardly throwing some clothes into a suitcase, she grabs her cell phone from where she'd thrown it and runs out of her dorm room and through the hallways until she's outside. She quickly finds her car and tears out of her parking spot, heading towards the interstate and home.

Last night had been carefree and fun. Filled with friends and food and alcohol and Carson felt sick when she thought about how she'd been laughing and drinking while her brother was waiting in limbo for god knows what to happen to him.

Blaine. He didn't deserve any of the shit he'd been put through. She couldn't help but picture him as the nervous 12 year-old who'd come into her room one night, face drenched in tears, and crawled into bed with her. She was 16, and fiercely independent, but could never say no to her baby brother. That night had been long, and she thought back to the moments when they'd grown so much closer.

"_Lollipop?" Carson asked, turning over to see her little brother shuffling his feet awkwardly beside her bed. He had one hand fisted in his pajama bottoms, keeping them up and allowing him to walk without tripping and the other was out in front of him, silently asking her permission to climb in. _

_She lifted the covers wordlessly, and he squeezed in next to her, wrapping his think arms around her torso and burying his head in her chest. She felt him shaking as he tried to hold back his sobs and she held him close to her, carding her fingers through his soft curls. _

"_What's up, Lollipop?" _

"_Don't call me that," he murmured into her shirt. As much as he complained about the nickname, she knew he loved it. _

"_Why not? That's all I ever see." _

"_Is not." _

"_Is too." _

_He huffed, hot breath seeping through the think cotton and into her skin. She giggled, burying her face in his hair and breathing in his shampoo. _

"_You gonna tell me why you're crying?" she asked. _

"_Dad won't stop talking about girls." _

"_And this is reason for a meltdown?" _

"_No, Carson. I just... I don't want to talk about girls." Carson frowned. She'd thought for a while that Blaine was different, but hearing him almost confirm it made her pause. Was he?_

"_So talk about boys," she said, voice soft._

_He tensed, shoulders shaking and breath coming in short gasps and she closed her eyes as he spluttered for an answer. _

"_Blaine." _

"_Car... Carson, I can't do this." He couldn't say that. He couldn't talk about giving up and letting things be because he was just a kid and kids don't talk like that. _

"_Blaine, look at me." It had taken him a minute to compose himself and then he was pulling away and wiping at his face and blinking up at her, rosy cheeks and red rimmed eyes and glistening tears. "I love you. You know that, right?" _

_He nodded, lips trembling. _

"_Then you know that I will love you whether you like girls, boys, or Mr. Chamber's cat from next door." _

"_Carson, don't be gross." The shared a quiet laugh._

"_But seriously," she said, quietly. "It doesn't matter to me." _

_He curled back into her and she let him lay quietly, his even breathing soothing her into a light doze. She started when he spoke again._

"_I don't really like Carly," he said, referring to the most popular girl in his class. "But her brother Josh is kind of cute." With that the tears began anew, and she pulled him as close to her as she could, clinging to his innocence when he was shoving it away. She soothed him, running a flat palm up and down his back as he sobbed into her. _

"_It's going to be hard, Blaine. So hard to be you." _

Blinking harshly, Carson looked out at the traffic in front of her, letting the memory fade into the back of her mind. They'd fallen asleep soon after that, and when he'd come home the next week with a bruise on his cheek and tears in his eyes, she'd let him curl up on her lap and watch Disney movies.

She hadn't been there when he'd told their parents, but their conversation that night had been a myriad of tears and anger and him feeling like his whole world had come crashing down around him. She ached for him, wanting to be touch him and hold him and comfort him and cursed the eleven hours that separated her from her brother.

And then this morning, she'd checked her voicemail to hear the drunken slur of her father telling her that the _freak_ was gone. That he'd taken care of the problem and they wouldn't have to worry about him anymore. Thinking the worst, she'd dialed Blaine's number and was met with his voicemail, which sent her into a frenzy and she dialed any number she had for someone who might have had contact with Blaine.

Wes was the one to set her fears aside, slurring a tired greeting into his phone before telling her that Blaine was fine and staying with Kurt and his family in Lima. She'd let him go and started packing, only to be startled by the sharp ring of her cell phone, and she glances at the screen before letting her bluetooth take over and answering it.

"Hello?"

"Carson? This is Cora from Jameson and Taylor."

"Hi, Cora. Is something wrong?" she asked, worrying her bottom lip. She'd known Cora for many years, but knew that hearing from their law firm was never a good thing.

"For you, no. For your brother, yes."

"What about Blaine?"

"Your father filed for removal of parental rights yesterday. We've called your mother, but she informed us that "whatever Bradley wanted to do was fine with her." Now, since you are his next of kin we're informing you that if you are willing you have the option of obtaining those rights."

"What does that mean? He has to live with me?" Co-habitation in dorm room is strictly forbidden, she'd have to look for an apartment.

"Not necessarily. You would have complete control over any medical concerns and be solely responsible for him until he reaches the legal age of 18."

"Cora.."

"Carson, you don't have to give us an answer right away. You should know, however, that if you decide to pass on this that we'll be forced to put him into the foster system."

"Cora, there is no way I'm letting him end up there. Of course I'll take him, but I need to see him and talk to him first, okay? Can I call you back when I've done that."

"Of course you can. You have a week before the state takes over his case."

"I won't need that long."

They'd said their goodbyes after that and Carson had made her way from the school shortly after. Which is why she's now speeding down the interstate, traveling the 12 hours between New Haven and Lima and silently wishing for her baby brother to just be okay.

She's exhausted by the time she reaches Ohio, and she pulls into the nearest Starbucks to grab some food and caffeine before continuing on. She takes the time to call her professors and counselor, letting them know that she's had a family emergency and that she was needed back in Ohio. They're all very understanding once she explains, and while she doesn't go into details, she knows she'll have no problems when she gets back to classes.

When she's back on the road the trip passes in a haze of cities, Akron and Mansfield and Upper Sandusky until she finally sees signs for Lima. Not long after that she's once again calling Wes and asking for an address to plug into her GPS and then she's there, climbing from her car and staring up at a large, two story home on the outskirts of Lima, OH.

Breathing deeply, she walks up the steps onto the porch and reaches out a hand to knock on the door. There's muffled voices coming from inside, and she closes her eyes and tries to pick out the one she desperately wants to hear.

"Can I help you?" She hadn't noticed the door open and pries her eyes open to stare into warm green eyes. The woman standing at the door is middle aged and staring at her curiously. She must make a sight with her frizzy hair and sunken eyes, but she can't bring herself to care.

"Hi. My name is Carson Anderson. Is my brother still here?" She leans against the porch railing, exhaustion filling her body as the woman stares at her.

"Your broth... ? Blaine? Yes. Yes, he's here. Come on inside."

"Thank you." Pulling her body up takes away the last of her energy and she stumbles through the doorway, but the woman places a steadying hand on her arm and she regathers herself.

"My name is Carole. It's nice to meet you, even if the circumstances are less than desired." She turns suddenly, alarmed. "You did hear about.."

Carson interrupts Carole, telling her that yes, she did hear, and yes, she is angry at her father. Carole just nods, leading her further into the house and up the stairs. She pauses outside of a mostly closed door, opening it a little and peeking inside.

"He developed a bit of a cold a couple days ago, but he's mostly gotten over it. He's sleeping now, though, if you'd like to go on in."

"Thank you, Carole. If you don't mind, I may sleep a bit as well. I just drove 12 hours and I'm exhausted. I promise, I'll explain when I wake up."

"Of course. That's just fine, dear. You go on in with your brother."

Carson stares at her for a minute, then unexpectedly throws her arms around Carole in a tight hug. Carole jumps a bit, but hugs her back just as tightly.

"Thank you," Carson whispers in her ear. "Thank you for taking care of him."

Carole shushes her and pushes the door open a little wider. She guides her to the bed and watches as she crawls in next to Blaine, pulling him to her and wrapping her arms around him. He snuggles into the sudden warmth, body melting into the familiar embrace of his sister. She smiles and closes the door completely, leaving the siblings alone and going back downstairs to wait on Burt.

She doesn't have to wait long before he comes through the door, boots thudding heavily on the wooden floor.

"Hey, Carole," he says, bending to give her a kiss on the cheek as he makes his way into the kitchen. "Do you know whose car that is outside?"

"Sure do," she says, flicking through a magazine. He looks at her, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Blaine's sister is here. We seem to be collecting Andersons."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry it has taken me so long to get this chapter up. June is always a busy month for me, but I am trying. I'll be out of town starting on Thursday and won't be getting back until the following Tuesday, so I'm going to try, **_**try**_**, to get another chapter done before I leave. No promises though. **

**Also, thank you so much to everyone that reviews this fic. It means so much to me! 3**

Blaine always associated the smell of pomegranates with warmth and safety. It was the scent that would wash over him whenever he stepped into his sister's room or when he'd curl into her embrace on long and lonely nights as a pre-teen.

So when he wakes up in the Hummel's guest bedroom to the smell of pomegranates he does nothing but smile and bury his head back into his pillow, hoping for a few more hours of sleep. It's only when his nose is buried in the soft cotton of the pillow case that he realizes the smell is coming _from_ his pillow. Blinking awake, he sits up and takes stock of the rumpled sheets next to him.

"Carson?" he asks softly, almost to himself, as he rises from the bed and heads for the door. Once in the hallway he can hear soft voices coming from downstairs. It's mostly Burt and Carole talking but there's another, softer, voice floating up as well. Using the wall for support, he carefully makes his way down the stairs until he's standing in the living room. From his vantage point he can see about half of small dining room table. He looks past Burt's head, straight into the eyes of his sister.

She stares back at him, eyes soft and he wonders if she really is here or if his dreams have run away with him. Then she stands and suddenly she's in front of him, tugging him into an embrace and he knows dreams don't feel this good.

"Car," he whispers into her hair, arms clasped tightly around her shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Blaine. You honestly thought I wouldn't come?" She pulls back, reaching up and hand to tuck a wayward curl behind his ear. Her eyes flick across his face, taking in the bruise along he check and the fingerprints encircling his neck. He sees her lips tighten in anger and has to stop himself from flinching back from the heat in her eyes.

"I didn't even know you knew. Who called you?"

"Cora," she answers, softly. Hesitantly she adds, "and Dad."x He nods, eyes downcast.

"What am I gonna do, Carson? I don't... " his breath hitches as his words break off and Carson wraps him in another embrace. She glances over her shoulder in time to see Burt and Carole look down into their coffee. She knows they've been listening, but still appreciates the semblance of privacy they've given her and her brother.

"Come with me," she whispers into Blaine's ear as she loosens her hold and wraps a hand around his wrist. She turns, tugging him along behind her as she makes her way back to the table. Pushing him down into her vacated chair she heads to the kitchen for another cup of coffee, knowing that Blaine will just drink hers.

She came back to find him staring forlornly into the mug, head tucked into his chest and avoiding the Hummel's attempts at eye contact. She sits in the spare seat across from the table from her brother, nudging him under the table to get his attention. He doesn't lift his head, just bites his lip and closes his eyes. She knows he's close to losing it and turns to Burt in an attempt to take the attention off of him.

"So, about my proposal. I know it they aren't the easiest of options, but those are the only ones I can think of," she takes a sip of her coffee, breathing in the steam to help clear her head.

Burt shares a contemplative look with Carole before nodding and Carson breathes a sigh of relief.

"I agree with you that neither of these will be the easiest of solutions, but it is the only option we have," Burt tells her. She chances a glance at Blaine and sees that he's lifted his head a little and has his brows drawn in confusion. Burt looks between them, a smile gracing his face.

"Ultimately, however, it is up to Blaine," he says.

Blaine jerks his head up completely at those words, looking between the three of them before settling on Burt.

"What's up to me?"

Carson looks straight at him now, eyes serious as they catch his.

"Well, there are a couple of ways this can go," she says. "You already know that Dad signed over his rights, and Mom will sign anything as long as it means she gets more money." Blaine nods, shifting uncomfortable in his seat.

"Now, since I'm 21 I can legally become your guardian. The only catch with that is that I currently live in the dorms and there's no way ResLife will let you live with me. So, if I sign the papers, the Hummel's have graciously offered you a place here for the remainder of the school year and until I can find an apartment. Dad already paid the full year's tuition at Dalton, so you'll stay there through this year. After that well, we'll figure something out." Carson pauses here, studying her brother. His eyes are distant, thoughtful, and while he has a small smile playing on his lips, he looks resigned as if he has to take this because it's the only way.

"Or," she says, breaking the silence. "Burt and Carole have also offered to take over your custody."

Blaine feels the air rush from his lungs and feels the need to physically brace himself against the table as dizziness overtakes him. Carson didn't just say that. There's no way.

"What?" he whispers, voice thick.

"They want to take over parental rights," Carson answers. She reaches a hand across the expanse of table between them, resting it lightly on top of his and squeezing, grounding him. "You'd live here, with Kurt and Finn and their parents as their adopted son."

Blaine flounders, eyes wide and shocked as he searches for words his brain can't find. It's too busy going over the words Carson has just spoken. The Hummel's want to adopt him? He'll admit that the past week had been nice, except for the being sick part, but was he really ready to just... have a new family? Or should he cling to scraps of the crumbling family he already had?

"I... I don't," he manages to stutter. "I don't understand. W-Why?"

Burt leans forward at the question, and Carole reaches over to place a comforting hand on Blaine's shoulder.

"I think the better question is why we wouldn't," Burt says. "I meant what I said the other day, Blaine. You are an amazing young man and I would be honored to be able to call you my son, adopted or not. Why anyone _wouldn't_ want you as their son is completely beyond me."

"He's right, Blaine," says Carole "You're bright and talented and just a genuinely good kid. Anyone who can't see that has no business calling themselves a parent." She leans toward him, making sure to catch his now wet eyes before continuing. "I also want you to know that we will in no way force you to choose us. If you want Carson to be your legal guardian that is just fine. You'll still stay with us throughout the school year. Just know, Blaine, that I am so proud of you, and I too would be honored to have you as my son."

Blaine almost hyperventilates as he tries to draw in enough air to ease the soft sobs coming from him. He wipes at his eyes ineffectively and sinks into the embrace when Carson rounds the table to wrap her arms around him. He turns in her hold, burying his head into her stomach and letting the tears overtake him. Carson cards her fingers through his curls, fingers lingering at the nape of his neck as she soothes him.

"Take a day or two," she says softly. "Think about it. We're not asking you to decide right now. Blaine, no one here will be mad at you. It is your decision and we will all respect that." She feels Blaine nod against her stomach and notices that the shaking of his body has mostly stopped. Pushing him back slightly, she runs her thumbs across his cheeks, wiping away the traces of his sadness.

"This _will _work out for you. I promise."

Blaine nods again before turning around and grasping the coffee in front of him. He takes a few sips, mostly to stall, but also to clear his head before attempting to speak. Once he sets the mug down he stares into it and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He looks to Carole, face flushed and eyes bright and she stands, saving him from his embarrassment.

"Who wants breakfast?"

Carson and Burt laugh and Blaine shoots Carole a thankful look before settling down in his seat, thoughts still heavy on his mind.

Kurt Hummel was _not_ having a good day. He'd slept through his alarm and had to rush through his morning moisturizing routine and then been rushed out the door with barely a goodbye to his parents, let alone Blaine. It was only when he'd gotten outside and seen the unfamiliar car in his driveway that he knew there was a guest over and as much as he wanted to go back inside and investigate the clock on his phone reminded him that he was still behind schedule.

Once he got to school, barely managing to make it in time for the tardy bell, he was met with stares and whispers, everyone still wanting to know what was going on with Blaine and not accepting his customary answer that it wasn't his story to tell. The only people he was keeping in the loop were Wes and David and that was only because they were both Blaine's friends and council members.

He was growing increasingly tired of the looks, the furtive glances the other students thought he didn't notice. It set him on edge, made him paranoid and he would have liked to yell at them, but that would only serve to get him detention.

At long last the day's classes had drawn to a close and Kurt was able to make his way to the Senior Commons for rehearsal. Settling himself on a couch facing the door, he avoided everyone's eyes as they entered and only looked up with Wes stopped in front of him, eyebrow raised. He quickly stood, ushering Wes into the far corner and turning so that Wes faced the wall. This way he could see if someone was inching closer to the pair in order to hear and could stop his explanation.

They stayed there until rehearsal began and Kurt walked with Wes and David out to the parking lot, filling them in on the last details from the past couple or days.

"Then I wake up and there's a strange car in my driveway and someone in my house. I don't know who, didn't see, but why else would some random person just show up?"

David looks deep in thought, as though he's mentally calculating something.

"It's probably Carson," says Wes and David nods, eyes clearing as Wes states what was clearly running through his head.

"Carson?" Kurt asks.

"Yeah. Blaine's sister. She goes to Yale," David informs him.

"Huh, that's possible." They stop beside Kurt's car and he bids them farewell, promising to let them know should anything else come up. Both boys had asked their parents about Blaine's situation, and while they wanted to, neither family had the means or the room to take Blaine in.

He thinks about it the entire drive back to Lima. What's going to happen, where Blaine will live. _How_ Blaine will live. Pulling into his driveway, he notices that the car is still there and quickly makes his way inside. He drops his bag on the couch, planning to give Blaine his homework later before walking into the kitchen. He finds a note from his dad, telling him that both he and Carole are at work and that Carson is with Blaine in the guest room. Discarding the piece of paper on the fridge, Kurt heads for the stairs and ascends them quickly, coming to a stop before the guest room.

There's soft sounds coming from within, muted conversation interspersed with the occasional giggle. Kurt raises a hand, knocking softly and enters at the shouted invitation.

"Hey," he says, opening the door. Blaine sits on the bed, Carson next to him with her laptop open between them. There's a movie paused on the screen but Kurt can't see what it is.

"Kurt!" Blaine exclaims, jumping from the bed and rushing to embrace him. Kurt blinks at the transformation in his friend. At the bubbly laughter erupting from his throat and the bright twinkle that has returned to his eye. Carson watches from the bed, catching Kurt's eye and giving him a soft smile.

"Guess what?" Blaine asks, bouncing as he let's Kurt go.

"You're feeling better?"

"Well, yes, but that's not it." Blaine waves it off, excitement rolling off him in waves. "I'm living here, with you!"

Kurt stops breathing, staring at the boy in front of him. The beautiful boy who entranced him with Teenage Dream and has been in the forefront of Kurt's mind ever since. The boy who is radiating happiness at the moment, making him look younger and even more perfect than usual. Kurt beams at him, utterly delighted that his best friend, the boy he's fallen hopelessly in love with, is going to be living with him.

He rushes to embrace Blaine, wrapping the shorter boy in his arms and squeezing so tightly that he's sure he's hurting Blaine. He doesn't seem to care though as he just squeezes back and Kurt still can't catch his breath. The lightheaded feeling completely taking over and before he can tell his brain not to he's pulled away enough to attach his lips to Blaine's. At the feeling of Blaine's lips on his, however, he crashes back down and pulls back to see the shock in Blaine's eyes and the redness seeping into his lips. Carson is still staring at them, her mouth having fallen open in surprise.

Kurt steps away from Blaine, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth.

"Well, that was unexpected," mutters Carson from the bed and it jerks Kurt out of his stunned stupor.

"I... I'm so sorry. I don't. I'm sorry." He turns and runs from the room, tearing down the hall and into his own room, slamming the door before flopping face first onto his bed, letting his tears soak into his pillow.

'Stupid,' he thinks to himself. 'So, so stupid.'


End file.
